


Smudge

by bellygunnr



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Kissing in the vents, M/M, Making Out, Mute Gordon Freeman, vent crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Barney's impulsive, to say the least. Gordon just wants to try this whole "tender domesticity" thing for once.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 9
Kudos: 255





	Smudge

It starts with grease.

Barney is covered in the stuff as he crawls through the vents, careful to follow the main routes until he finds the smaller branches stretching out over the Sector C labs. It makes gripping the steel ‘flooring’ a little difficult, his usually swift trek slowed to a shamble by the substance. He’s starting to regret not taking the precious few seconds to clean himself up a little, now that he’s calmed down from the raw thrill of a vent race, but hey. He’d dealt with worse. He could definitely get through this.

Until he starts feeling a separate set of vibrations through his hands and knees, making the whole duct shake. He slows to a stop, briefly looking through a grate just inches ahead. Already above a lab, but the bustling inside meant that it wasn’t Kleiner’s. He winces, hearing Magnusson’s sharp voice drift up from below. If he just took a right up ahead, he’d be at his destination.

But there was something-- rather, someone-- blocking his path.

“Gordon!” Barney says, dismayed. “Why are you up here? Don’t ya know you’re going the wrong way?”

Gordon shakes his head, glasses flashing in the low light. He makes an unfamiliar gesture with his hand, then waves his arm frantically. His lip twists, tooth digging into the corner in his ‘frustrated thinking’ face. Dust whorls between them as he heaves a sigh, settling on a single word.

Dirty.

“What’re you-- me? I’m a little dirty, sure, but what’s that got to do with anything?” Barney says, fighting to keep his voice low. “Did you already let Kleiner in? God, what am I even up here for?”

Gordon snorts, makes more words, waves them off. He crawls past the grate, blocking out the light to get into Barney’s space, pulling him in by the collar. The heavy bulletproof vest slides off from Barney’s right shoulder, clanging loudly.

They both wince, inches from each other, at the sharp rebuke from Magnusson. Thankfully, it’s unintelligible, lost in the reverberating steel duct.

“Awfully forward, Gordon,” Barney starts.

Gordon grasps his chin, thumb digging into his jaw uncomfortably. With his other hand, he licks his thumb and starts scrubbing at Barney’s cheek, switching to the sleeve of his lab coat somewhere in between.

Barney, for his part, simply rolls his eyes skyward and lets it happen, grunting as the loose vest forces him to shift his weight forward. Okay, so maybe he was a bit too disheveled to be clamoring around up top, but how did the good doctor find out?

“Why are we doin’ this up here?”

Gordon scrubs at his cheek harder. Then he walks them both back-- Barney only complying because his face was being held-- so that they could get some light. Unfortunately, he’s only made the grease smudge worse. What was just a shiny, inch-long strip is now a blurry cloud, blending into Barney’s stubble.

“I have no idea what you’re hopin’ to accomplish,” Barney says, a tad cross.

Gordon chews on his lip again, shifting his weight between hands as he deliberates on what he wants to say. His expression is hard to read, marred by the lens glare every couple seconds.

Barney was fairly certain that was some kind of lab hazard, lens glare. Or maybe that was a test chamber hazard? Could people see through lens glare?

Gordon is halfway through a sentence, but it’s made up of words Barney isn’t recognizing.

Oh, hell. Barney furrows his brow, feeling the cogs in his brain kick into overdrive.

“Sorry, Gord, what was that?”

Gordon pouts, face flushing bright red in either embarrassment or anger. Barney can’t tell which in the low light, but he hopes it’s not the latter.

“I was trying to be domestic,” Gordon amends. “I made it worse.”

Well, shoot. Barney can’t be too mad about that. He pulls Gordon back in, placing a kiss on his mouth.

“Brownie points for tryin’, then?” Barney says.

Gordon kisses him back, surprisingly tolerant of the taste of stale coffee on his lips. One of them manages to snag hold of the vest, shoving it somewhere behind them. Then he pops up Barney’s helmet, the chinstrap coming undone, to make the kiss more comfortable. 

Barney breathes a laugh. The kiss is clumsy, obstructed by the narrow space and their work clothes, and a little bitey from Gordon’s side. He wraps an arm over his shoulders and slides his fingers into Gordon’s hair, pulling at the frizzy ponytail until the hairband loosens. Creeping closer until their knees knock together, all thoughts of what they were supposed to be doing flee entirely, lost to whatever this moment was.

* * *

“Dr. Magnusson! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dr. Kleiner looks up from his work to acknowledge his colleague, noting the particular stormy expression on the other. He rises from his desk, making a beeline for the coffee machine in the back. They were going to need it.

“My lab is currently infested by a pair of rats,” Dr. Magnusson says testily. “Your rats, might I add.”

“Rats…? No, you must be mistaken. I haven’t been allowed lab pets for a couple of years, unfortunately. Very sad,” Dr. Kleiner replies.

The coffee machine coughs horribly as Kleiner finishes the paces of starting a new brew. He rests a hand on his hip, eyeing it uncertainly.

“I have to ask-- have you seen Dr. Freeman or Calhoun around? I sent them on an errand and they’ve been gone for awhile…”

Dr. Kleiner can’t stop a grin from forming as Dr. Magnusson rounds on him, looking as if flame should be shooting from his ears. He manages to swallow a laugh by fumbling a pile of creamer packets.

“Those two are making my lab uninhabitable with their awful youthful mingling! In the vents, might I add!” Dr. Magnusson says, enunciating his words sharply. “So I am going to be taking my work here until they have finished, and then I am going to fire them.”

“I’m not sure that’s in your jurisdiction,” Kleiner says, snickering. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad. Have you got a broom? Just poke them. I learned that from Eli.”

Arne rolls his eyes. Silently, he pours himself a piping cup of coffee, blowing on the steaming liquid after the fact. He shakes his head disapprovingly as he starts to mix creamer in.

**Author's Note:**

> speed wrote this have fun


End file.
